Public Eye
by A Hidden Path
Summary: Despite their best efforts, the Chosen couldn't escape fame following their digimon adventures. When Daisuke and Ken's relationship is exposed in a local tabloid, the backlash threatens their tenuous romance. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Public Eye, Pt 1**

Motomiya Daisuke's cell phone blasted power metal at a volume that sent vibrations shivering down the nightstand. Groaning, he rolled over in his bed and slapped his hand around. He struck the device, sending it flying to the ground with an ominous crack. The spastic guitar riff continued, accompanied by a neighbor pounding on their shared wall.

"Shit." He lurched to his feet, grabbed the mobile, and shut off the alarm. The mattress buckled as he fell back onto it. He lay motionless until goosebumps rippled across his bare skin. Grumbling, he grabbed the covers and rolled, wrapping them around himself until his face fell into the pillow on the other side of the bed. When he inhaled, a medley of aromas danced over his senses: a subtle body scent, expensive cologne, spicy aftershave, salon quality shampoo.

Just like that, he leaped from half asleep to half aroused. A low, guttural sound slid up his throat as he flopped onto his back, holding the pillow to his face. His free hand was halfway down his torso when his backup alarm went off.

" _Damn_ it!" Daisuke tossed the pillow aside, grabbed his cell, and peered at its display. It was five past noon, and his shift at the restaurant began at two. He dismissed the alarm and sat up against the headboard, eyes still heavy with sleep. Although the blinds were closed, the inescapable light of noon illuminated his bedroom. His eyes narrowed as they adjusted, and the goggles and D3 on his nightstand came into focus.

He stood, shimmied into last night's discarded boxers and sweatpants, and snapped his goggles on his head. A second pile of clothing waited beside his, thinner, longer, and much more stylish. Daisuke smirked as he tugged a tee shirt over his head, then made his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and living room.

The tiny apartment was silent and still. Chibimon was on guard duty in the Digital World, and Ken and Minomon were either attending university classes or at his posh internship. Daisuke was alone, a rare state since that fateful day when he became a Chosen ten years ago.

Thanks to Ken, the apartment was neat, and Daisuke spotted the only out-of-place object right away. He grinned as he approached the tiny table between their galley kitchen and the living room, expecting a note or small gift from Ken. A newspaper waited there, headline obscured by a sticky note. Daisuke peeled it off and read:

 _Thought you should know._

Scowling, he turned to the paper for an explanation. A glance brought a flood of information: he had mistaken a local tabloid for a newspaper, and it featured a large, high-quality photograph of Daisuke kissing Ken outside of the ramen-ya where he worked.

 _Shit. Shit!_ His insides churned, tangled, and knotted into an aching mess. _When did I kiss Ken in public?!_ He had no memory of the kiss, which looked like a light, affectionate touch. Nothing but a quick goodbye before they parted ways for the day. It was the type of thing most couples wouldn't have to think about.

He stood there for a while, dazed and frozen. Then he leaped into sudden motion, running back to the bedroom to reclaim his cell phone. His fingertips mashed the screen, creating a jumbled message. Cursing vibrantly, he deleted the text and started over, forcing himself to work slowly.

 _Are you okay, Ken?_

He waited, heart pounding as he collapsed onto his bed, but no reply came. The minutes bled by, and eventually he had no choice but to prepare for work. Sighing, he rose and went about his daily routine.

The phone in his pocket burned like a firebrand, but remained silent.

 **Later**

Ken leaned against the outer wall of a restaurant and held his phone in front of his face. Minomon sat in the crook of his elbow, eyes heavy-lidded in the sun. Ken glanced above the device, watching pedestrians pass on the sidewalks of Tokyo. It was a gorgeous autumn day, bright and mild, and the street was crowned with wreaths of golden leaves. The soft light was gilded as it filtered through.

Although his sweater and scarf kept him warm, he was as hunched and tensed as a freezing man. Minomon was looking at him, but Ken ignored him save for a few absent pats. He couldn't trust himself to give his partner the kindness he deserved at the moment, so silence was the wiser choice.

He checked his watch and glanced down the street, but Hikari wasn't in sight. Sighing, he stroked Minomon again and scrolled through the web browser on his phone. A few minutes later, the sound of his name caught his attention, and he looked up.

A young woman was walking by in a smart pantsuit, her heels clacking like tiny claps of thunder. Her head was tipped towards the mobile in her hand. "Mm-hmm," she said, sighing as she pressed the device into her cheek. "I know. Such a shame about Ichijouji-san. I was shocked! You remember how I had a massive crush on him in middle school- hell, we all did! We never would have thought that he was..." She waited a beat, then nodded. "Right, right. It's just the one picture. Maybe it's just an experiment or whatever. I mean, no one's _really_ gay in Japan..."

Ken's stomach swooped, fell, and caused a shock wave of nausea on impact. He tried not to react physically, but Minomon felt the spasm that rolled over him. "Ken-chan!" the digimon squeaked. "Ken-chan, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Ken straightened by degrees, trying to rise into his typical posture. He hissed as pain radiated through his shoulders, which ached from hours of alternating between tense and slumped.

Minomon blinked, and the antennae above his head quivered. "Are you sure? Why did that lady say it's a shame about you?"

A surge of hatred, searing and dagger-sharp, spread from cell to cell like a contagion. Ken closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and willed the violent mood to pass. It clung to him like static, building until it could jolt into the first innocent to come too close.

"There are lots of Ichijoujis," Ken said through gritted teeth. "She was probably talking about someone else."

Huge black eyes regarded him for a long moment, then drifted away. "It was something bad."

A brief burst of astonishment replaced his sullen mood, then soured into guilt. _Of course Minomon knows when I'm lying. I did it constantly as the Kaiser._ "I'm sorry," he whispered, pocketing his cell and cradling his partner in both hands. "I just don't want you to worry about this."

Minomon's reply was cut off by the sound of someone approaching. Ken glanced down the sidewalk and saw Hikari walking towards him. He hadn't seen her in a few weeks, but she was just as he remembered: petite, slender, pale, and emitting a calming aura. As usual, Ken took a moment to appreciate her cute style, showcased with a white sweater over a yellow button down and a pink pencil skirt. Tailmon's head popped out of her large tote bag, her blue eyes sparkling like jewels.

Hikari smiled as she stood beside him. "Hi Ken-kun, Minomon. I'm sorry we're late. Class ran over."

"No problem. Thanks for taking time out from college to see me."

She shook her head. "It's no trouble. Honestly, we should be meeting up more. I know it gets harder as we grow older, but I'm always happy to see you." Her sweet, warm smile eased some of his strain, causing a rush of gratitude.

"Me too," he said, hoping his flicker of shy embarrassment wasn't detectable. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely." Hikari led the way into the tiny cafe. It was a trendy place packed with diners at tables, chatting around mouthfuls of bread, meat, and veggies. The tables were pressed up against the walls, which were made of glass and featured built-in seats. Smooth jazz played beneath the ambient noise. They placed their orders and made small talk while they waited, trading news about their classes and families.

When they were seated at a table smushed into a corner, Hikari offered a piece of her sandwich to Tailmon and said, "Are you alright?"

Ken sucked in a breath. He knew this topic would come up; hell, it was why they were meeting in the first place. But somehow, it still caught him off guard. He sat the plate containing his second sandwich on the corner of the table. "Minomon, Tailmon, here. You can share this."

Minomon stared from him to the food, torn between his desire to eat and to learn about whatever was bothering his partner. Tailmon stood and gracefully hopped to the far side of the table. "Guess I'll help myself, then," she said, taking a huge bite.

Minomon twitched and turned away from the humans. "Save some for me!" he cried, descending on the plate.

Hikari lifted a hand to hide a giggle. "Well played," she whispered. Ken cracked a tiny smile that quickly faded.

"I suppose everyone knows now," he said.

"Oh, Ken-kun." Hikari rested her hand on his and gave him a tiny smile. "We all knew, or at least suspected. And we all support you both."

Ken felt his facial muscles slacken. "You knew," he repeated tonelessly. Something loosened in a buried coil of his mind, and he smiled. "Daisuke swore up and down that no one knew, but I always wondered... Especially with Minomon and Chibimon involved."

Hikari's smile morphed into a grin, and Ken returned it automatically. He straightened and grabbed his sandwich, taking his first bite of food for the day. Hikari squeezed his hand, then released him.

"Daisuke-kun doesn't do himself any favors, either. He… Well, he's obviously attracted to you. I've recognized the way he looks at you for years. He used to look at me that way, you know."

Ken snorted, and his food caught in his throat. He loosened it with a gulp of water and patted Minomon, who had turned away from his meal. The faint reassurance was all the digimon needed to dive back in.

"H-Hikari-san," he said weakly. For some reason, her sweet smile suddenly gave him an urge to groan, which he ignored with difficulty.

"Please don't worry about how the Chosen see you. For us, nothing has changed. But that tabloid is a problem… I'm shocked at how fast it's spreading." Her brow furrowed deeply as her fist rose to her chin. "It's not just that physical tabloid, either. It's all over the internet, and even the local news…" She lifted her face, revealing mahogany eyes that overflowed with concern. "I'm so sorry that your private life is being showcased like this."

A lump formed in his throat, and he cleared it away. "Thank you. I want to say that I don't understand why anyone is even interested, why it's considered news-worthy at all, but…"

He lapsed into silence, unable to vocalize the thought. Frustration filled his voice, and it seemed to congeal in his throat, choking him. The desire to rave against the people behind that article was growing with each second, and he didn't want to subject Hikari to an angry rant.

"I don't like it," Hikari said, "but I suppose I understand it. There are so many girls and women who have crushes on you... Miyako-san told me that it's all over your fansites."

A muscle ticked in Ken's cheek. "F-fansites," he repeated. When they were more active as Chosen, Ken had frequently checked his name online for leaks about his involvement in digimon-related incidents. He was aware of websites concerning him that were decidedly _not_ news related, but he made a concentrated effort to ignore them.

Hikari's expression went curiously blank. Ken studied her face and realized that she was suppressing visible signs of emotion. "Miyako-san said your fans are all devastated."

 _Ah. She doesn't want her amusement to show._ Although he could feel his cheeks heating up, Ken was determined to remain composed. "We never meant to become famous," he murmured. "None of us."

Hikari's thin shoulders slumped. "I know," she sighed. "We tried so hard to avoid it, and we kept low profiles for years... How did everything change?"

"You don't know?" Ken's long hair spilled over his shoulder as he tipped his head.

"Only a little. Miyako-san told me that she, you, and Koushiro-san purged the web of our identities for years, until it exploded beyond your control."

"True," Ken said, nodding. "But there was much more going on. Takeru-san's father worked in the background, expunging our identities from news reports. His mother did the same in print. But they were able to pull those strings because of laws protecting minors from press coverage. They lost that ability once we reached age twenty."

Hikari's glance tipped off to the side, focusing on far-off memories. "But weren't you on TV as a minor?"

Ken's lips narrowed into a thin line. He desperately repressed a surge of annoyance that Hikari hardly deserved for her question. "My parents gave their consent for those child prodigy programs and news reports. At the time, I thought public attention was my due."

"Ken-kun..." For a moment, sadness filled Hikari's expressive eyes. Then they hardened, and Ken inched back reflexively. "Don't be so hard on yourself about that. It was so long ago, and you weren't entirely to blame."

He nodded stiffly, but couldn't trust himself to comment. He jumped back on the previous topic and away from the subject of guilt. "Even before we lost the protection of our minor status, people were talking about us. No law can stop word of mouth, and each digimon crisis brought more witnesses. People wanted to know more about the kids who kept fighting destructive digimon."

"And you were famous to start with," Hikari said slowly. "I've seen the Chosen pitched as 'Ichijouji Ken and his friends.'"

Ken winced. "Y-yes, so have I. And so have Daisuke and Taichi-san. I believe they were unimpressed."

Hikari giggled, making a sound like a little songbird. "I wish I could have seen that. But how are things at work and school? I hope this hasn't caused problems."

That familiar tension returned in an instant, tightening every muscle, bowing his back. "I haven't been to school yet. There are lots of glances and whispers at work, but I doubt I'll be confronted." His thin lips twisted into a humorless smile. "Famous Ichijouji. Saves me even as it kills me."

He felt the weight of Hikari's glance, scanning his face for information. "How do you feel?"

Without willing it, Ken glanced towards the door. Just a few steps and some weaving between tables would free him from this conversation, from this woman and her insufferable _questions_ -

 _Stop._ Ken's hands tightened around the edge of the table until the linoleum squealed. His pulse beat in his head, pushing him towards a raw, animalistic place of pure emotion. The logical part of him had to scream itself hoarse to be heard. _This is Hikari-san, a dear friend. She's here to help you._

He forced a few deep, even breaths. Minomon was staring up at him, and Hikari watched him with concern. He tried to smile, but his muscles were locked down.

"It's bad," he said quietly, stroking his partner's head. "All of this is feeding those old emotions. People are looking down on me for being with Daisuke. They don't know what he means to me. They don't know what we've been through together. Hikari-san, he's, he's... _incandescent_. Normally, my worst emotions can't withstand his presence, and some days, that's all that keeps me going. And they have the nerve to think less of me for being with him! And did you read the article?!"

His pulse was blaring now, thudding like a war drum in his skull. "They _attacked_ him," he growled, and that memory snapped the strained leash on his control. His voice rose and hardened until he could no longer recognize it. "They made fun of him for skipping college and working in a ramen-ya. Uneducated, they said. Lack of personal achievements. They worded it like he's some, some kind of _toy_ that I keep to, to-"

"Ken-kun, _stop_." Hikari stared at him with sharp, commanding eyes. Worked up as he was, he failed to notice her and the stares of his fellow diners.

"He saved all of us! All of them!" Fury blazed in his veins and set every crevice of his mind alight. To him, it seemed like a righteous fire, and a dark voice whispered that he could punish the people who were defaming their own savior, that he _should_ do it. He didn't feel his lips contorting into a smirk, wasn't aware of the lines forming around his eyes and mouth. Static danced over his body, and his physical form briefly flickered out of sight as a gray pallor fell over the restaurant. Somehow, that terrifying visual caused a surge of triumph, more heady than ever after hours of worry and impotent anger.

"Ken-kun!" Hikari dove forward and seized his wrists. The flickering stopped on contact, and his body solidified. Confusion overwhelmed him, and he finally registered the familiar face turned towards his.

"H-Hikari-san?" Colors slowly bled back into place around him, starting with Hikari's pale skin and russet eyes. A familiar pain slammed into his skull, and he bent forward and cradled his head in his hands. The rage and acrimony shifted to fear and remorse, emotions so familiar that they provided an odd sort of comfort.

He slumped back in his chair and tilted, blocking out as many people as possible. They had to be staring, or perhaps moving away from the table, and he didn't have the strength to stomach their judgment. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Look at me." Hikari's light, sweet voice was suddenly commanding, and he obeyed reflexively. When his eyes met hers, she smiled, but he could see the pain and worry she was trying to hide. "Ken-kun, how long has the Dark Ocean been tugging at you?"

He swallowed hard and looked away. "There have always been days when I feel it in the background, when I hear the sound of the surf in the middle of class or in the dead of night. But it hasn't been this bad in months, maybe years."

"…I see." She stared at him for a long moment, as if searching for something in his face. Ken had no idea what she was thinking, and a faint thrum of nerves registered through his haze of bitter remorse. He grimaced and looked away, shielding his eyes from the light pouring in through the cafe's host of windows.

"I did read the article," Hikari said at last. "It was awful."

Ken frowned and tilted his head. Was Hikari really letting the topic of the Dark Ocean drop? He tried to claw his way out of his misery so he could focus. "The worst part is that I'm upset with Daisuke, too. Something in me keeps insisting that this is his fault, that things would be fine if he hadn't kissed me in public. But realistically, our relationship would have gotten out eventually. And what kind of a partner am I if I explode at him for kissing me?"

The corners of her mouth rose and fell in an instant. "Discretion isn't among his strong points. I'm so sorry things happened the way they did, but I think your relationship going public was inevitable."

"Mm." He rubbed at the searing ache in his head, but the pressure caused ghostly vibrations of pain instead of relief.

"Have you talked to him?"

A fresh, agonizing cramp cleaved through his skull. Ken grit his teeth to swallow a moan. "N-no. Our schedules are off sync. I haven't seen him awake today."

"You can text him," she suggested gently. Ken smothered a spike of irritation before it peaked.

"It's not something I can get into via text," he snapped. Hikari lifted an eyebrow with an arch expression that made him wilt and sigh. Despite her delicate appearance and mild manners, Hikari took shit from no one, which meant that he would have to provide a more honest explanation. He leaned forward, tilting his shoulders to block out the digimon. It was a fruitless exercise, since they were paying attention because of his outburst, but the illusion of privacy was comforting.

"I don't know how to face him," he whispered. "I know him, Hikari-san. This is a blow to him, but he'll be worried about me... about us. I'm the one who's wallowing in it. I'm the one who will let it hurt and insult me. What can I say when he rains apologies and concern on me?" A drilling ache tore through his chest, and he rubbed at it automatically. "What if I lash out at him?"

Minomon cuddled against his arm as Hikari hesitated. "Ken-kun... I'm saying this as a friend. Have you given more thought to seeing a psychologist? Someone could help you with what's leftover from the dark spore's influence over you."

His teeth collided with an audible snap. "I can't. How can I explain what happened to us? The digimon, the Digital World, dark spores... I'd be committed before the end of the first appointment."

"It's true that a lot of people are still in the dark about digimon, but more people are receiving digimon partners everyday. Onii-chan's girlfriend is friends with a psychology student who is just a few years away from starting his practice. He just got his own partner, so he'll believe you. He'll listen. Please, Ken-kun. You went through _so_ much. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's not your fault that you ended up with a dark spore-"

Ken pinched his eyes shut and fought for air, for patience. "The dark spore didn't control me. It amplified the feelings I already had and lowered inhibitions towards existing impulses. The anger, the superiority, the blood lust... It was already there." He paused, gathering strength for the confession that ran in his mind like a litany whenever he wasn't working or spending time with Daisuke. "I'm… I'm to blame."

"Ken-chan…" Minomon rubbed his arm like a cat and stared up at him. The naked concern in his eyes tore at Ken's heart.

Hikari nudged their plates aside and placed her hand on his. "You're also the Chosen of Kindness. And a friend."

Ken looked from his partner to Hikari and forced a weak smile. "I am. And that's what keeps me going."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I'm out of line. I know no one wants to hear things like that, but Takeru and I are worried about you. We _all_ are. So please… Just think about it? I'll give you his contact information."

His lips twitched, but he managed to suppress a grimace. "I'll think about it." Miraculously, his phone rang, saving him from further talk of shrinks. When he glanced at the screen, the warmth in his body instantly vanished. He turned wide, frightened eyes towards Hikari and held the phone out, as if to pass the conversation on to her. "It's... it's my mother."

Hikari's hand twitched on top of his, which somewhat negated the comforting influence of her smile. "It will be alright, Ken-kun. Your mom adores you." She turned her attention to her neglected sandwich and started conversing with Tailmon and Minomon in an undertone.

Ken's teeth sank into his lower lip. His mother never called during his working hours, so the reason behind the contact was transparent. But there was nothing for it; he'd have to talk to her about this sooner or later. It was probably better to get it over in the presence of a friend, in case he needed support afterward. His hand shook as he lifted the mobile to his ear. "H-hello?"

"Oh, Ken-chan!" His mother's high voice flooded him, breathless with excitement. "Are you on break?"

"Er, yes." Her eager tone baffled him so much that he pulled the phone back and frowned at it. "Um… I'm having lunch with Hikari-san."

"Oh! Tell her I said hi! I'll make it fast. Is it true that you're dating Daisuke-kun?"

"Er-" Although he was expecting the question, it seemed to dissolve his guts. There was no way he could string together an answer, and he fumbled through a few false starts.

Mercifully, this was sufficient for his mother. "Why didn't you tell us?!" she squeaked. "Oh, sweetie! I'm so happy for you! But this article! It's so mean! Obviously they don't know what fine boys you are. And he's such a sweetheart, too! Will you bring him over for dinner soon?"

The words hit his brain like a mallet on a gong, shattered his thoughts and spreading the fractured remains on waves of reverberation. Stupefied, he stared around the cafe without seeing anything until his eyes fixed on movement. Hikari was waving at him and nodding. "Oh!" he gasped. "Er- Uh, yes! Of course. As, as soon as our schedules line up."

"Great! Oh, your father and I are so excited! Our little Ken-chan is all grown up! Well, you're busy, so I'll let you go. Say hello to Minomon, okay? I love you!"

Ken mumbled a stuttering farewell and placed his phone on the table. He stared at it in shock until the display began to blur. The stinging in his eyes alerted him to the cause, and he wiped them as discretely as he could. When they were clear, he saw the others smiling at him.

"Good for you, Ken-kun," Hikari said.

He nodded robotically, still fumbling to process the call. Hikari checked the time on her phone and gasped. "Ah! I have to get back!"

"Yes, me too." He didn't know the time, but he needed to retreat and process things on his own. Ken gingerly tested his feet before throwing his weight on them. He felt far too unsteady for comfort.

"Ken-chan, you didn't eat!" Minomon cried. Ken glanced at the table and found that his sandwich was whole save for a few little bites.

"You need to eat," Hikari said, frowning. "Take it with you." Without waiting for his reply, she folded the wrapper around the sandwich and handed the packet to him. "Please remind him to eat it, Minomon."

Ken shook his head as Minomon chirped an agreement. Hikari held her tote bag open while Tailmon climbed inside and turned around a few times, making herself comfortable. Then she threw the handles over her shoulder and maneuvered around the table until she was beside him. "Take care of yourself. And promise me you'll talk to Daisuke."

"Alright. Thank you, Hikari-san."

She hesitated, then leaned closer. "Ken-kun… The Dark Ocean can't hurt us as long as we keep the people we love close. It's when we shut them out and bury ourselves in our fears and our worst emotions that it pulls us under. Please, Ken-kun. Keep Minomon with you, and talk to Daisuke-kun as soon as you can. And if you need anything at all, call me anytime." She hesitated, then pulled him into a quick hug. "You're not alone. Don't forget that."

His reply was detained by the lump clogging his throat. Hikari was also drawn to the darkness and vulnerable to it, so she understood his struggles. But the light burning inside of her preserved her from contamination. She would never succumb to the pull the way he had, the way he could again at any time. All he could do was stay close to Daisuke, Minomon, and his friends, pray for a portion of her strength, and hope for the best.

 _What will I do if I lose Daisuke over this? What will pull me away from the Dark Ocean then?_ Despite the warmth of the crowded restaurant, he shivered. With great difficulty, he buried that thought away, knowing it would haunt him later.

"H-Hikari-san… Thank you." He forced a smile for her and fought the impulse to bow, which would only make her scold him for being overly formal. He bused their table as soon as she turned around, eager for a distraction from his thoughts. New customers jumped into the open space, and he had to reach around them to pick up Minomon.

As he slipped out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk, Ken slid his phone from his pocket. A swipe of his thumb revealed a new text message from Daisuke:

 _Are you okay, Ken?_

He stopped short, and a pedestrian walked into him. "Sorry," he murmured, moving to the inside of the sidewalk.

Minomon leaned forward in his arms, straining for a view of the mobile. "Is it Daisuke? Are you going to answer it?"

"It's him." Ken's thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but remained motionless. If there was a quick and accurate answer to that question, then he had no idea in hell what it was.

 _Sorry, Daisuke. It will have to wait until we're face-to-face. Somehow, I'll find a way to stay awake until you get home._ Satisfied, he nodded to himself and placed the phone back in his pocket.

But as the day wore on, the glances and whispers weighed on him, feeding the anxiety and anger threatening to overwhelm him. Before long, a small, dark corner of his mind whispered that he needed sleep for his classes tomorrow, and to escape from the torment of his emotions.

The talk with Daisuke was going to have to wait.

 **Later**

Daisuke shook a colander over a pot of boiling water, shedding excess droplets from the ramen noodles. The tiny kitchen of Hanamura Ramen was hot, humid, and filled to bursting with cooking paraphernalia. Familiar music echoed against the steel walls: the steady bubbling of pots on their designated burners, the sizzling of pans on stove tops, the tapping of knives on cutting boards, all punctuated by the constant slurping of noodles and the cries of the cashier calling ticket numbers.

Whenever he placed a completed order in the serving port, he glanced into the narrow restaurant. As always, every stool at the counter was filled, and more diners stood behind them, eating their ramen on their feet. A line snaked from the register, where a reedy man in a suit wheezed as he fought to be heard, through the open door. An autumn breeze blew through the portal, simultaneously relieving the heat of the kitchen and carrying the tantalizing scents out the door, drawing business.

Daisuke glanced over his shoulder. Hanamura, the head chef and owner of the ramen-ya, was focused on weighing tare, the house spice mixture for the broth. He seized his opportunity to check his cell phone. A relieved sigh slipped from his lips when he saw a new text from Miyako:

 _Be there in five._

"Hey, boss," Daisuke called. "Can I take my dinner break now?"

"Who am I feeding tonight?" Hanamura peered at him through a veil of steam rising from a pot of boiling water. He was a stocky, middle-aged man with a flat nose. He possessed the most iron-clad poker face Daisuke had ever seen, and as always, he had no clue what the hell he was thinking.

"Er- Haha." _How did he see me checking my cell phone?!_ "You remember Miyako?"

"Ah. Your girlfriend." The strong overhead lights showcased the drastic contortion of Hanamura's lips from teasing grin to grimace. Daisuke jerked and glanced over his shoulder, wondering what his boss was reacting to, but there was nothing unusual in sight.

Hanamura cleared his throat and stepped towards the prep surface, where he busied himself with chopping green onions. "Er, sorry." He stared at his task with unnatural focus. "I guess I shouldn't tease you about her anymore."

 _Oh. Oh, shit. Shit!_ Daisuke dropped a ladle into a pot of broth and started cursing out loud. He had spent the day so wrapped up in concern over Ken's silence that he hadn't even considered further ramifications of the article.

He turned his back to his boss and started fishing the first ladle out with a second one. "You saw the article." A high, harsh peal of laughter pierced the kitchen from the dining area, and Daisuke grimaced. It was his only reply, so he gathered his courage and pressed on. "Does it change anything?"

Somehow, the second pause was worse than the first. Daisuke lifted the soaked ladle and grabbed its handle, senseless to the burn of hot metal against his palm. He turned to face Hanamura, unable to withstand the strain. The chef was placing a split ajitsuke tamago, a marinated soft-boiled egg, atop a bowl of ramen. When their eyes met, he lifted a tufted brow and snorted. "Do you still cook the same?"

Daisuke was about to demand an explanation when Hanamura allowed himself a tiny grin. He understood, and the scowl melted off his face, along with the tension. He smiled and nodded, and the chef made a shooing hand motion. "Go feed your friend and get back to work."

"Yes, Chef!"

Daisuke quickly assembled two bowls of ramen, piling them high with their favorite toppings. Then he pushed the break room door open with his elbow, placed the food on the tiny folding card table, and moved to the restaurant's back door. Miyako stood on the outside, wearing a gray dress, a red beret, plaid tights, and a scarlet scarf.

"Hey, Daisuke!" She grinned and gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Let me in. I'm starving!"

Her energy and vibrant smile were infectious, and he grinned despite himself. "Good. You're on a timer. Get in here and eat. Where's Poromon?"

"Guard duty in the Digital World," Miyako said, stepping inside. "Same as Chibimon, yeah?"

"Ah, they're together today, huh." Daisuke nodded and closed the door behind her. The break room was the size of a walk-in closet, just large enough to hold a mini fridge, the table with its four plastic chairs, and a worn love seat. Daisuke collapsed into the chair opposite Miyako and pushed her bowl towards her. Although he wasn't wearing a watch, he made a show of glancing at his wrist. "You've got four minutes until the noodles get soggy."

Miyako snorted as she dug through her tote bag. "I know the drill, Daisuke," she said, handing him a bottled energy drink. Daisuke cocked an eyebrow. He hunched over the table, lifted his bowl beneath his chin, and dug his chopsticks into the ramen. He sank the chasu pork into the tonkotsu broth to soften, then lifted a tangled wad of noodles, which he ate in a rapid succession of loud slurps. His eyes slid shut as a medley of flavors, striking and complex, played over his tongue: the salty broth, infused with the earthiness of konbu, the layered punch of the restaurant's signature tare, the depth and nuance of scallions, garlic, and ginger, the richness of belly pork, and the subtle sweetness of apple.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Miyako edging back in her chair. "What?!" he demanded. "This is how you eat ramen. If you don't slurp it, you'll insult the chef, and that's me. Eat!"

She blinked, and a slow smirk passed her face. She echoed his posture and attacked her meal. Daisuke laughed, pleased by her form, and slurped with her until he polished off his noodles. Then he moved on to his meat, vegetables, and soft boiled egg. Miyako downed her noodles under his approving glance. "Damn, Miyako. Well done!"

"Please." Miyako straightened and wiped her mouth and chin with a napkin. "You taught me how to handle my ramen. What did you expect?" Daisuke smiled, but sobered as the moment stretched on. His eyes slid to her tote bag, and he wondered if a copy of the tabloid was folded up inside.

The animation he had gained from her presence faded, and he slumped in his chair. "Did… Did you see it?"

"Of course I did." She answered without missing a beat, then shoved half a marinated egg into her mouth. Daisuke nodded, relieved by the same bluntness that often irritated him.

"I guess…" He swallowed hard, struggling over what to say. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

Miyako jerked back, eyes wide. Her shoulders twitched, then shook with constrained laughter. "Wh-wh- _what_?! Daisuke- Find- _find out?!_ We've known for months. Heck, years!"

" _What?!_ " Without willing it, he slammed the cheap table with his hands, and it buckled with a creaky moan. Heat blossomed over his face, spreading like fire in a parched forest. "That's not- We haven't been dating for that long!"

"Oh?" Her lilac hair spilled over her shoulder as she tipped her head. A toothy smile played at her lips. "How long, then?"

"Er… A few weeks after…" The rest of the sentence clung to his tongue, reluctant to drop. "After he took me in."

Her fingers rose, toying with the band of her beret. "So recently? Wow…" Suddenly, she straightened and cringed. "Aw, man! I lost the bet!"

Daisuke scowled and rubbed a hand through his cinnamon shock of hair. Miyako's shoulders rose as she tensed and laughed awkwardly. "Ahaha. Ha. We, er, we sort of had a pool going."

Pain stabbed through the center of his forehead, and he rubbed it with shaking fingers. "You were betting on whether or not Ken and I would get together?!"

"No, no!" She forced another laugh and flapped a hand. "We were betting on _when_ you'd hook up."

Daisuke flopped over so far that his face hit the table. "Fuck."

"Yep." Miyako's voice went thin and wavering under the force of her nerves and constrained amusement. "So, you could have told us."

He shifted enough to reveal a single coffee-colored eye. "So, you don't… None of you…"

Miyako's expression softened. She leaned forward and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "We're all happy for you both."

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his head, daring to hope for the best. "Even Iori? He's… kind of traditional."

"He was a little shocked at first, but you know him, Daisuke. Takeru-kun explained the possibility to him in private one day, so he'd have time to consider and accept it. He always eventually lands on the right conclusion, and this case was no different."

Daisuke forced a deep breath that rasped against his dry throat. He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice was far too high and clipped. "And senpai?"

Daisuke chose to skip college and enter the working world after high school, so there was no need to carry on with titles from school. But there was one person that he would always refer to in that manner, whose example he would always strive to follow. That fact was almost as obvious and visible as the goggles perched upon his head.

Miyako's hold on his shoulder tightened. "Don't be stupid," she said, her tone gentle.

Daisuke jerked up, accidentally tugging Miyako towards him. "It's not stupid! He's so- He's always talking to me about girls, always trying to teach me how to… You know. Be… manly."

"What matters most to him is your happiness, Daisuke. And you _are_ a man. Being with Ken-kun doesn't threaten that in any way."

Daisuke _tched_ and stared at the wall, but slowly mellowed. "He really doesn't mind?"

"No one minds. Like I keep saying, we're happy for you, so you can stop being so hush-hush about it."

"We can't help it!" Daisuke rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve the wad of tension. "I mean, it's still kind of weird for us. He's been my best friend for all of these years, and then suddenly…" The plastic energy drink bottle crumpled as his hands stiffened. "Suddenly, the most important human relationship in my life changed. We're trying to figure it out as we go. We're not, y'know… Trying to hide it from you guys, or whatever. Not really."

"Uh-huh." A fine purple eyebrow curved upward. "And that's why you both flipped out so much about the article."

"That's not-" Daisuke's gut reaction of vehement denial paused as he actually considered her words. "Wait, both? Did you- Damn it, Miyako! He talked to you?! He's been ignoring my texts all damned day!"

"Calm down. I haven't spoken to him, but Hikari-chan saw him for lunch. She said he's really out of sorts."

Daisuke's hands, callused and lightly scarred by constant cooking, ran over his face. "Hell. Did anyone say something shitty to him?"

"If they did, Hikari-chan didn't mention it. I mean, she just gave me an update, you know? But she said people are sort of… watching him and whispering in the background. And he's so sensitive, of course he noticed."

Daisuke's eyes pinched shut. "Shit. This is my fault. He never touches me in public, so it had to be me who kissed him. I don't even remember! Shit! God, do you think this will affect his work? My boss is cool with it, but…"

"Seriously, Daisuke?! Are you beating yourself up for showing affection for your boyfriend? That's hardly a crime!"

"Yeah, well… There's stuff at stake. I wonder how he's doing…" Of course, he wouldn't have to wonder if Ken would just answer his damned messages. Daisuke fought a pointless urge to pound the table with his fist. Then his temper switched abruptly to worry, and his teeth tore at his lower lip. "I hope we'll be okay…"

Miyako blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "Er, Daisuke-kun. Why should you be concerned about your relationship? You've been through so much together. You can handle this."

Daisuke hesitated. The answer was buried in his heart, dwelling there as an abstract tangle of emotions. But how could he explain it? The language to pin down the concepts and transform them into something more concrete was beyond his grasp.

"That's… damn it." _Takeru would be able to answer._ The passing thought only worsened his mood, and he grit his teeth and cursed. "It's _because_ we're so close that this is so hard. I'm scared as hell of fucking this up. Ken is… I mean, he's not everything. I have Chibimon, friends, family, a job, right? But… He means so much to me. I don't know what I'd do if this… If we…"

A faint mist rose over Miyako's eyes, then cleared as she shook her head. "But that's _why_ it will work, Daisuke. Most people would give anything to have a relationship like yours."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged, uncomfortable with both the praise and the conversation. "It hasn't exactly been storybook so far."

"No?" The look of shock on her face almost made him smile. "What's wrong?"

Daisuke's brow furrowed. "For one, I never freaking _see_ him. He takes classes and works during the day. I work from the afternoon through early morning. We've gone days without running into each other outside of bed."

Faint color rose to Miyako's cheeks, and Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Nope. I'm usually not so lucky. We're both out cold sleeping. I mean, we're trying our best. I leave dinner for Ken before I head out to work, and he leaves me notes in the morning. But… I think we're both getting sick of it."

"What?" Her eyes widened to an almost unnatural size. "Daisuke, no. You _have_ to make it work. If you just talk to him-"

Daisuke snorted. He was about to point out that he had tried that, thank you very much, when the door to the break room was thrown in. Hanamura stood in the portal, his bulk between them and the kitchen. A flood of scents and sounds rolled into the tiny room, and Daisuke blinked as the outside world washed over him, breaking him out of his own little universe.

"Hello, Miyako-chan. Kid, I need you in here, c'mon."

"Oh, sorry!" Daisuke was suddenly aware that their conversation had stretched beyond his usual alloted break time. His boss had already cut him some slack, probably sensing that he needed it today. He leaped to his feet, gave Miyako a distracted one-armed hug, and said goodbye.

Then he followed his boss back to the kitchen, where he willed himself to lose his problems in a rush of work and orders.

 **Later**

As always, by the time his shift ended, Daisuke was weary and worn to his bone marrow. It was usually a satisfying feeling, but today that gratification was absent, leaving him with nothing but exhaustion. The troubles that he had avoided in the kitchen slammed into him as he walked home, clamoring in his brain, screaming in his heart. A physical weight seemed to push at his back, and he slumped forward.

Daisuke shuddered and zipped his coat up to his chin. The autumn night was frigid, whispering the promise of winter with its biting wind. In his typical brainless way, he had dressed for the day's weather, neglecting to factor in the chill of the evening. He thought longingly of Ken's collection of sweaters and outerwear and cursed himself for owning almost nothing but shorts, jeans, hoodies, and tee shirts. _Maybe he won't notice if I borrow something of his._ He snorted at his own suggestion, knowing that Ken would immediately identify and comment on any unusual items of clothing he donned.

Another icy wind tore through his light jacket, and he broke into a run. His apartment complex came into view, and he sped up, eager for shelter from the cold. The place was a massive structure, made grid-like from the repeated balconies. He raced into the outdoor lift and jogged in place, mashing his floor button as the doors closed. It lurched upward, mechanical bits moaning and creaking in the breeze. Finally, it reached his level, and he leaped onto the concrete walkway and ran. It was even colder higher up, with fewer buildings to block the wind. He cursed until his chattering teeth drowned out his voice.

Daisuke ignored the sights of Tokyo on his left, hugging close to the apartment doors to block some of the frigid air. The apartment complexes were shorter and smaller here than in Odaiba, and restaurants, shops, and tiny businesses were smushed into every intervening space. It was a riot of light, sound, and activities, and Daisuke could still hear snippets of raucous laughter from the bars. Finally, he reached his door, fumbled through unlocking it with numb fingers, and let himself in.

The apartment opened into a tiny genkan, where he kicked off his shoes and stepped into a galley kitchen. He passed the door to the toilet, contained in a room so tiny that Ken's knees brushed the wall when he sat, and passed through the opening to the living room. The bedroom waited beyond it, partitioned from the living room with a sliding door. It was left open for him, and he stepped inside, moving slowly in the darkness.

He paused at the foot of the bed and squinted. Ken's presence was announced by an obvious lump beneath the covers, but Minomon could be anywhere, and the last thing he needed was to squash him again. Daisuke stripped down to his boxers, donned a pair of sweatpants from the floor, and slowly slid beneath the covers. His side of the bed seemed to be clear, so he scooted closer to Ken.

When his chest bumped Ken's back, he exhaled and wrapped himself around him. He buried his face in the crook of Ken's neck and inhaled, picking up the scent of his skin, his hair, his breath. Some of the tension sloughed from his body as warmth, security, and faint arousal built within him. He dropped kisses on Ken's shoulder until his boyfriend murmured in his sleep, and he stopped for fear of waking him.

Daisuke cautiously lifted himself to his elbow for a glimpse of Ken's profile. He soon had a shadowy view of high cheekbones, a sloping nose, and a mess of long, dark hair. Minomon was curled up beside his pillow, breathing evenly with an occasional high-pitched squeak.

Daisuke watched him for a while, absently stroking Ken's side, fingers rising and falling over ribs and lean muscle. He was tempted to wake him, partially to work things out and partially to hear his voice, to see recognition warm his expression, to watch his thin lips twist into a smile. But knowing Ken, he probably struggled to fall asleep in the first place after the day's events. Sighing, he eased himself back down the mattress, fit himself tightly against Ken's back, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

As he closed his eyes and forced deep, even breaths, he tried not to think of waking to an empty bed.

 **Author's Note:** The story will be concluded in part two, which I hope to have up by the end of February. It will feature appearances from Mimi, Taichi, Yamato, and Koushiro, along with more of Daisuke and Ken, so don't miss it!

This story is dedicated to acktacky, a kickass artist and Daiken queen! You should totally read her stuff and check out her tumblr for some awesome Daiken :D Thanks for all of the Daiken goodness you've made for us, ack!

And if you need more Daiken to hold you over until part two, please read my oneshot story, _A Gentleman's Wager_.

Hmm, you know, I feel like I could write a whole story just about Ken's feeeeeelings XD I feel like I only skimmed the surface, but I'm trying to keep this story fairly contained… Why you so _complex_ , Ken. Here's hoping that Ken doesn't fall off the deep end again in Tri Ketsui. SAVE MY CHILD!

Please let me know what you thought! I'm also open to all Tri flailing XD Bless!


	2. Chapter 2

**Public Eye, Pt 2**

Daisuke stood in the kitchen of Hanamura Ramen, scooping noodles into broth. He added the extras listed on the order sheet, then dodged around Hanamura's broad form to place the order in the serving port. His phone chirped just as his hands were free, and he checked it reflexively.

 _Hey, Daisuke-kun! Can you feed me?_

Mimi's text was followed by an incomprehensible string of emoticons. Daisuke glanced nervously over his shoulder and weighed his options. The restaurant was slammed by the lunch rush, and his boss would need him.

Chibimon stirred from his nap within the hammock of Daisuke's hoodie. "Who is it from, Daisuke?" Daisuke waved the question away and turned to the chef.

"Er, boss?" he said, uncommonly hesitant. Hanamura grunted without turning away from a steaming pot. "Uh... Can I feed someone?"

"Gods," Hanamura sighed. "Why do you have so many god-damned friends? Which one is it this time?"

"Uh, it's Mimi-san."

Hanamura jerked and turned just long enough to reveal a tiny smile. "I guess I can spare the ramen, but I can't spare you."

"Sure. Thank you." Daisuke typed a quick reply and dove back into his work. A few minutes and several completed orders later, a new text alerted him of Mimi's arrival.

Daisuke opened the back door for Mimi and ushered her into the break room. Palmon followed her, carrying a cute gift bag. She lifted her leafy arms, presenting it to Daisuke.

"These are for you. Mimi and I made cookies! They're filled with all kinds of things!"

"O-oh?" Daisuke forced a smile, praying that it looked natural. Years of experience with Mimi's cooking had taught him to be wary around her food. Sometimes it was incredible, enhanced with unique and unusual flavor combinations. But more commonly, her bouts of culinary whimsy and occasional loss of focus caused casualties.

"Yeah!" Palmon stood on the tips of her roots, holding the package up higher. "We made it because Mimi said you're sad."

Daisuke blinked, then accepted the gift with a smile. "Thanks," he said, turning to Mimi. As always, she was resplendent and dressed to kill. Today's ensemble was a blouse with delicate lacework, tan culottes, leather boots, and a cowgirl hat. She smiled, and the dingy room was suddenly brighter, more welcoming.

"Share them with Ken-kun," she said.

"Sure thing." He tried to smother a grin as he imagined leaving the cookies out, unlabeled, for Ken the next day. _Won't he be in for a surprise? The cookies are probably filled with wasabi paste or umeboshi or some shit._

Daisuke sat the package by his coat on the faded love seat. "Listen, I have to keep working, but we can talk while you eat." He opened the door separating the break room from the kitchen and slid a wooden doorstop beneath it. Mimi pulled a chair into the opening, sat, and gave Daisuke orders for herself and her partner. Daisuke lifted Palmon to her lap, then stepped back into the kitchen.

"Afternoon, Mimi-chan." Hanamura offered her a rare smile and a salute with his ladle. Daisuke shook his head and grinned, amused by Hanamura's favoritism towards his female friends, and Mimi in particular. He probably got one smile per month out of his boss.

"Hi, Hanamura-san," Mimi said, her voice high and flute-like. "Thank you so much for lunch."

"Much obliged!" Palmon added.

Chibimon poked the back of Daisuke's head. "Is it lunchtime for me, too?"

Daisuke scowled. "Dude, you've been eating all day."

Hanamura grunted assent, but when the chef's back was turned, Daisuke handed his partner a marinated egg. Chibimon devoured it in an instant, then poked the back of his neck for more. Daisuke ignored him and started prepping Mimi's lunch.

Mimi glanced from him to Hanamura, who was working on the opposite end of the kitchen. "Miyako-chan called me," she said quietly. "How are you?"

 _Of course she did._ Daisuke rolled his eyes, both amused and irritated by Miyako's predictability. After a moment's consideration, he decided that he didn't mind. _Friends want to help each other. That's part of the deal, right?_

"I've been better," he admitted. He grabbed a colander and shook it out, clearing the noodles of boiling water. "Honestly, though, I'm okay. It's a lot harder for Ken, I think."

"You think?" Daisuke looked towards Mimi in time to see her head tilt. He scowled as he grabbed two bowls from a shelf.

"I haven't been able to talk to him." Daisuke ladled broth into the bowls, added the noodles, and quickly assembled the meat and veggies. Then he garnished it with egg halves and a fish cake.

Mimi and Palmon clapped as he bowed and said, "Ladies, your lunch." Chibimon took the opportunity to leap from his hoodie to Palmon, no doubt to start a begging campaign.

"Thank you, Daisuke-kun, Hanamura-san!" Mimi held her hand out to accept two pairs of chopsticks from Daisuke. He watched as Mimi snapped Palmon's pair into its two halves. The digimon's eyes narrowed as she struggled with the utensils. Finally, she shrugged, lifted the bowl to her face, and started slurping the whole thing down.

Hanamura's rumbling laugh rolled along the length of the kitchen. "I like your style, Palmon." Her reply was an especially loud slurp.

Mimi took a few bites, then called Daisuke's name. He glanced away from an order sheet with a faint, "Huh?"

"It's probably not my business," she began, "but you know... You really do need to spend time together. Jyou and I have a policy: we spend at least forty minutes every day together. And I don't mean eating, sleeping, bathing, or watching TV. I mean _together_."

Daisuke was about to point out that he and Ken didn't have time for that when he recalled the facts about Mimi and Jyou. He scowled as hot air from the boiling noodles rolled over his face, making him sweat.

"How the hell do you manage that?" he asked. "Jyou-san's doing his residency now, and you've been running all over the city for your modeling lately, right?"

Mimi slurped down a few more clumps of noodles, lowered the bowl, and licked her lips. "It was hard at first. We were dating and living together, but we hardly ever saw one another. Eventually we had this big talk about it. It's no secret that Jyou and I have big career goals that we don't want to compromise on. We kept telling ourselves that we're young and prepping for our futures, you know?"

She paused, and Daisuke hurried away to assemble an order. By the time he returned with a new order sheet, most of Mimi's food was gone, and Chibimon was happily munching on tidbits from Palmon's bowl. The model gestured towards him, and he stepped closer.

"But here's the thing about the future... It's more than goals, Daisuke-kun. It's great to have dreams and to be productive, but you can't just list things you want to accomplish over your lifetime and expect to be happy when it's all checked off."

Her expression shifted from thoughtful to affectionate as she ran her hand over the back of Palmon's head. "For me, happiness isn't just becoming a model and traveling. It's also Palmon, Jyou, Mama, Papa, Gomamon, Sora-chan, Miyako-chan... All of the people and digimon I love. The more time Jyou and I spent wrapped up in work and nothing else, the more we realized that our future has to include the people we love."

Daisuke paused in his bowl assembly and leaned against the counter for support. He wrestled with his imagination, trying to tame it, but it was already spinning emotions and thoughts into images. What would his life as a restaurant owner and chef be like with no one to share it with?

"There are lots of single people," he pointed out. He meant for it to sound offhand, but his voice quavered.

Mimi nodded. "Sure. Some people have great lives that way, but that's not what I want. The trick is to know what you need to be happy and to spend your time and energy on those things."

Even Daisuke, who was somewhat lacking in perception, could hear the question lying beneath Mimi's words: _What do you need to be happy?_ His teeth clenched as the answer rained down on him. He could practically feel the words running over his skin, just like the beads of sweat forming on his body.

He wanted to cook food that made people happy. He wanted time with Chibimon and his friends, the approval of his senpai, and peace between humans and digimon. But he wouldn't be truly happy if he couldn't share those things with Ken.

Daisuke stared through the serving port, watching customers eat and leave, eat and leave. Each stool was immediately filled when it became vacant. He had never considered it before, but the restaurant was a hub, a kind of carousel that people boarded for ten minutes before slipping back into their lives. There were so many people trying to meet their needs and maybe, if they were lucky, scrape together some happiness...

His throat went painfully dry, and he grabbed the bottled energy drink waiting on the counter. "How do you make time for each other?"

Mimi squeezed her eyes shut and held up a finger. "Hold on. Let me remember how Jyou says it." Palmon patted her back as she thought, and Daisuke managed a tiny smile when she jerked upright and nodded, her expression suddenly serious and stiff.

"You don't _make_ time, Daisuke. You al... allocate it. You have twenty four hours a day, and it's up to you to divide it in a way that meets your needs."

She pantomimed pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose, and Daisuke snorted with laughter. "Hell, you sound just like him!" His chuckles died away, slowly replaced with a frown. "But… What does that mean?"

Mimi grinned and shrugged. "It means you have to budget time, just like spending money. Jyou and I plan our day around spending a little time together. We never let it slide. If one of us is out of town, it becomes phone time. And we have a date day twice a month, no matter what."

"If you don't water a flower, it dies," Palmon added.

Mimi nodded and gave her partner a hug. "That's right! It's so easy to get swallowed up by your dreams when you're young. We're prepping for our lives, you know? And that's important! But I want my future to have Jyou in it, so we need to nurture our relationship. And ourselves! Like this, right? I'm having good food and seeing a friend. That stuff matters!"

Daisuke turned away, hiding his face by assembling an order. The last few months played in fast forward in his mind, and he saw himself sleeping, working, and spending any free time drinking alone and experimenting in the kitchen, trying to hone his skills. What had happened to soccer and outings with his friends? When was the last time he went on a date with Ken? It suddenly occurred to him that he was probably out of shape from lack of exercise, and he glanced around the kitchen. Predictably, there was no mirror.

A cheerful pop song began to play, and Daisuke twitched. Mimi fished her phone from her bag and checked the screen. "Ah! I have to take this call, Daisuke-kun. Thanks for the food, and I'm sorry I just sat here and threw advice at you."

Chibimon jumped off of Palmon's lap, and Daisuke scooped him off of the floor and placed him back in his hoodie. "No, it's... It's cool. Good luck with your call."

Mimi smiled, nodded, and called a farewell to Hanamura. Then she lifted the cell to her ear and retreated through the break room, exiting the restaurant with Palmon at her heels. Daisuke closed the break room door and returned to cooking, but he kept glancing back at the closed portal and imagining Mimi there, giving her advice on repeat.

"I need more help," he whispered at last. Chibimon stirred in his hoodie, knocked out of a half-doze by his voice.

"What's up, Daisuke?" he asked. Daisuke finished the order he was working on, then leaned against the counter and slipped his phone out of his pocket.

"It's been a while since I've seen some of the Chosen," he said. Chibimon jumped up to his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek.

"That's a good idea! That will be fun, right?"

"Yeah," Daisuke agreed, but he wasn't sure about that. He had some heavy questions for his friends, and he wasn't sure that he was going to like their answers.

 **A Few Hours Later**

Daisuke hurried down the sidewalks of Tokyo, shouldering through a mass of pedestrians. At this hour, the crowds were mostly comprised of businessmen, their black suits rendering them almost invisible in the dark. He cursed under his breath. His shift had run over, and he was late for the meeting he had initiated. There wasn't even time to drop Chibimon off with Hikari, as planned. Fortunately, the little Digimon was snoozing in his hood, oblivious to the cold and the street noise.

Shuddering, Daisuke zipped his hoodie up, covering Ken's sweater. He had shoved it in his backpack this morning, saving it to wear on the walk after work. Daisuke knew better than to risk staining something of Ken's during his shift. He couldn't afford to replace the damned thing.

The izakaya where his friends were waiting came into view, and the golden haze of light beaming through the windows beckoned him. Daisuke let himself in and told the hostess that his friends were waiting. She smiled and beckoned him into the restaurant. Daisuke sighed with relief as he moved into the heated interior.

The izakaya was akin to an informal gastropub, and was mostly inhabited by colleagues sharing drinks after work. Daisuke's friends were easy to spot among the crowd of suits. Taichi grinned and lifted his pint in greeting. Daisuke smiled automatically, his spirits already rising.

"Hey!" Daisuke cried, speaking up to be heard over the din of their fellow diners. The izakaya was packed with drunk salarymen relaxing in booths. The gastropub was masculine, featuring a redwood bar, dim lighting, muted modern art, and sleek wooden booths with crimson cushions.

Yamato and Taichi sat on one side of the booth, and Koushiro sat on the other. Daisuke slid in beside him, exchanged greetings, and ordered a beer. "I'm impressed," Yamato said. "This is a classy place by your standards. I was worried you were sending us to a dive."

"Please," Daisuke snorted. "Of course I know what I'm doing. Looking into local restaurants is part of my job." Despite his scoffing, he was pleased by the blonde's praise, and he was smiling before his comeback was completed. He reached around Koushiro's glass of red wine and pulled the table's plate of edamame towards himself. He grabbed a pod and popped a few soybeans into his mouth.

"I thought we were dropping our digimon off with Hikari," Taichi said. Daisuke shrugged.

"My shift ran over today. Sorry. He's asleep, though, so we can talk. I guess the others couldn't make it?"

"Well, yeah," Taichi replied. "I heard his bulldozer snores as soon as you walked in. And yeah, the others send their regards, but it's just us."

"Shit," Daisuke muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "Is he that loud? I guess I got used to it."

"Is that possible?" Yamato asked. Daisuke waved the comment away.

"How are you guys?" he asked. "It's been too damned long. Especially you, Koushiro. Where the hell have you been?"

The redhead washed down some edamame with wine, then folded his hands on the table. "Odaiba, as always. Between my research and helping out with my friend's company, I'm afraid I've been scarce."

"Sure." Hoping for some actual news, Daisuke added, "How's the missus?" His gaze landed on the white gold band around the redhead's left ring finger. Somehow, Koushiro was the first of the Chosen to marry, although Yamato and Sora were scheduled to follow.

"Eimi's well, thank you. I don't suppose you're interested in hearing about her latest collaboration on digimon biology with Jyou-san." His tiny smile suggested that he knew the answer.

"Er-" Daisuke turned away from Koushiro and faced the opposite side of the booth. "Yamato-san, how about you?"

The bassist lowered his tumbler of whiskey. "It turns out planning a wedding is as horrible as they say. At least my band is willing to stay local while we work on it... Sora seems to enjoy it, though. She's made so many wedding dress designs, I think she'll have enough collections to last the next three years."

Daisuke downed a huge gulp of beer, hoping to save himself from replying. There was a chance that he'd never be able to marry Ken, even if their relationship flourished. Homosexual marriages were not recognized in Japan, and even basic rights like visiting same-sex partners in the hospital weren't granted outside of Shibuya and Setagaya, two region of Tokyo. _You started this conversation, idiot. Don't get all butt hurt._

Taichi stared at him, then cleared his throat. "It's been nice being in Japan for a few weeks, but I'm off to Paris soon."

"Gonna go see your ballerina?" Daisuke asked, smirking.

"Well, I wasn't going to brag. But if you want me to..." The sentence trailed off as Yamato rolled his eyes. Taichi chuckled, stopped a waitress for another beer, and turned back to Daisuke. "You called us out here for a reason, right? Is it about..."

Apparently, Taichi's diplomatic training was sufficient to discourage him from directly mentioning the tabloid in public. Daisuke nodded, grateful for both his boldness and his newly-minted tact.

"Yeah. Since it was published, it's been radio silence between Ken and me. I... I don't know what to do."

"Is that so strange?" Koushiro ask. "I'm in contact with Ken-kun over email. It seems that the two of you are often too busy for daily interactions."

A pulse of embarrassment flew over Daisuke and quickly soured to irritation. "Well, that's not really good news for us either, is it?"

Koushiro's dark eyes flicked across the table, as if to gather information from Yamato and Taichi. _He's probably wondering how he fucked up._ Somewhat mollified, Daisuke sighed and said, "Things were already strained. Ken and I hardly see each other, and we definitely weren't ready for our relationship to get out like this. The reaction has been really bad for him, since he's famous. Hikari said people are staring and whispering as he walks by."

"Damn," Taichi muttered. Yamato stared at him for a long moment, then leaned closer.

"Is that everything?"

Heat swept over Daisuke's face. His hand trembled around his lager, and he placed it on the table. He found himself wondering if it was really wise to have this conversation with three friends he looked up to so much.

"Did... Did you guys read it?" There was a murmur of agreement. Daisuke cleared his throat and tried to ignore the way the surface of the table blurred.

"Look," he said at last, glancing anywhere but at his friends. "Even if you ignore that we're both guys, I know Ken's out of my league. I cook ramen for minimum wage. I couldn't afford a place of my own, and when my last room mate situation fell apart, I came crawling to Ken. The company where he's interning wanted him so badly that they fucking cover his rent. _In Tokyo_. He's kind, a genius, famous, hot, athletic, stylish. If you made a list of good traits for a boyfriend, he literally ticks off every damned fucking box."

He paused, ignoring the pained expressions surrounding him. "Despite what that article says, I'm not stupid. I know I don't deserve him. I know the thought of us being together sounds like a joke. I mean, I... I skipped college. I love what I do, but it's not going to impress anyone on paper. Ken's studying forensics and criminal justice, plus he's interning at a powerful tech company. I make fucking noodles and can't afford to support myself."

There was a long, awkward pause, broken at last by Taichi's voice. "That's a load of shit, Daisuke." Daisuke's head jerked up, and his eyes fell on Taichi's. His mentor was usually indulgent and laid-back with him, and his hard, unimpressed expression was startling.

"This isn't like you, Daisuke-kun," Koushiro said. "Generally, nothing threatens your optimism."

Yamato's eyes were midnight blue and troubled. "It's a damned good thing you brought this to us. Who's first?"

Taichi slammed his pint down with a penetrating clink of glass on wood. "Trust yourself, Daisuke. If what you described was all you had going for you, do you think you'd be wearing those?" He gestured to the goggles around Daisuke's neck.

Despite his foul mood, a surge of pleased embarrassment rolled over him. "Y-yeah?" Daisuke muttered, openly fishing for more.

"Hell yes. Dude, you lead a team that _saved the fucking world_. And forget those reporters who called your team 'Ken's entourage.' Everyone worked hard, and _you_ were at the helm. You don't give up. You trust your friends completely. And you never, _ever_ lost sight of your mission or abused your power." Some of the fierceness dripped out of his face, leaving it a bit forlorn. "You never hurt Chibimon or caused a rift among your teammates. In some ways, you were a hell of a lot better at your job than I was."

"S-Senpai..." A treacherous lump appeared in his throat, choking up his voice. Daisuke took a swig of beer, hoping to dislodge it. When he sat the pint down, he found Taichi grinning again.

"Besides, anyone would jump at you for your ramen. You'd better cook for me before I leave for Paris."

"You know where I work," Daisuke muttered. But if Taichi asked, he knew he'd show up at his place to cook, toting his gear like a sherpa.

Koushiro shifted his body towards Daisuke. Those dark, intelligent eyes captured his, and he inched back, momentarily intimidated by the rare and heavy weight of Koushiro's complete focus. "I'm uncomfortable with the way you're ignoring Ken-kun's agency."

"H-huh? You mean his job?"

A tiny smile formed and vanished in an instant. "I'm referring to his ability to think and act for himself. By your own admission, Ken-kun is an intelligent, reasonable man. It follows that he's weighed the evidence and made the choice to partner himself to you. That's an enormous vote of confidence; he's not in the habit of offering his regard to everyone."

Daisuke hid his shaking hands beneath the table. "Well, yeah, but... I mean, just because he liked me at one point doesn't me he always will. It's like the older we get, the more obvious it is that we're different, and he's out of my league."

A brief flash of hurt passed Koushiro's face, then smoothed into a cool, detached expression. "Disparaging yourself can only bring pain to your partner." When Daisuke continued to stare at him, not fully understanding his meaning, Koushiro sighed and looked away. "I'm speaking from experience. Eimi's old habit of underestimating and degrading herself was painful to me, and it doesn't sit well on you, either. Thankfully, she grew out of it, and I suggest you drop the inclination yourself before it takes root. You trust Ken-kun, correct?"

Daisuke agreed reflexively. Ken was his partner, his best friend, someone he looked up to every day. They shared so many formative memories, and they had even shared hearts and minds as jogress partners. If there was one thing he knew in a world that often seemed confusing and crazy, it was that he could count on Ken.

As if he could read his mind, Yamato scowled and said, "Honestly, I'm surprised the article is causing this much damage for you two. I know it's horrible, and no one should have to go through that kind of thing. But... You've always been so solid. What's more important: the opinion of strangers and the outside world, or the life you're building together? You have no control over one, but the other is entirely up to the two of you."

Daisuke slumped back against the booth. "That's easy for you to say," he grumbled. "You're not... You're with a woman."

"True," Yamato agreed. "But while I know they aren't as rough as yours, we have had challenges. My manager and producer wanted me to keep my engagement to Sora secret, so my band wouldn't lose fans. All these years, we've kept our relationship quiet, and Sora's had to watch while other girls gushed about me and dumped gifts on my head. After all of that, I'm not hiding my marriage to her. When I have that ring, I'm not taking it off for anyone."

A sulking mood fell over Daisuke, and he crossed his arms and tsked. "At least you get to wear one if you want."

"Ah..." Yamato was silent for a few moments, then nodded. "Yeah. There are a lot of challenges for you, and I'm sorry. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't let them tear you away from Ken. When there's external pressure, you should lean on each other in response.

Daisuke scowled. "You're telling me to take the fucking high road." Yamato grinned and inclined his head, falling instantly into a pose worthy of a magazine ad. Daisuke felt a brief pulse of irritation. Yamato was so attractive and talented. It didn't seem fair for him to tell someone else to try harder.

"I am," Yamato agreed. "The world shouldn't be putting these kinds of pressures and barriers on you two, and I know it sounds like I'm pushing the extra work onto you instead of them. But I don't want to see you two fall apart because of other people's hate."

"Hell, you stuck your neck out for Ken the very moment he decided to walk away from the Kaiser," Taichi added. "That took a lot of trust and faith, Daisuke. We all love that about you. We know our miracle kids can pull through this."

"True," Koushiro said, "but you will need to communicate and work together. If I may be so bold, I recommend that you address this issue as soon as possible, before any more tension builds up. Allowing more fear and avoidance to build up can only hobble your efforts to reach one another."

"Guys..." Daisuke glanced from face to face. Typically, he was too busy moving and acting to require pep talks, or to hear one even if someone offered. Their praise and faith rocked him, breaking through layers of anxiety and easing the hurt encased within. He wiped his eyes, too touched to consider hiding his reaction. "T-thank you. I'll talk to him tonight. But first... Since we're all here, anyway..."

Taichi laughed and turned his body towards the restaurant, drawing the attention of a waitress. "Right! Let's pick you up after all of that serious stuff. What do you want to drink?"

"Er-" Koushiro blinked and tipped his head. "Are you sure that's wise? If he's going to confront Ken-kun about these issues, then-"

"It's fine," Daisuke cut in. "I want more beer!" Of course, he really wanted to spend more time with his senior Chosen, but there was no need to get mushy all over again. Taichi grinned and requested a new round of drinks, ignoring Koushiro's beleaguered sigh.

Daisuke rolled his shoulders and eased back in the booth, ready to enjoy himself with his friends.

 **A Few Hours Later**

Ken grunted, startled out of sleep when the mattress lurched. He rolled over, facing the shadowy form sprawled out on the opposite side of the bed. The smell of beer rolled off the figure and slammed into Ken's nose, making it crinkle.

"Daisuke?" he whispered. A drunken sound, half giggle and half groan, was his only reply. Sighing, Ken searched in the dark for confirmation of his boyfriend's identity. He found a head full of thick hair smelling faintly of ramen tare, a scratchy patch of scruff on the chin, and the cool rims of goggles.

"Ken-chan?" Minomon whispered. Ken sighed and turned towards his partner, who was curled up beside his pillow.

"Everything's fine, Minomon. Daisuke's just..." The digimon knew about drunkenness, but Ken felt uncomfortable openly discussing it with them.

"M'okay," Daisuke murmured. "Jus' a little... Minomon, I left Chibimon sleepin' onna couch. Couldja sleep w'him?"

Minomon squeaked an agreement and hopped off the bed. Grumbling beneath his breath, Ken rose to turn on the light and close the bedroom door behind Minomon. Then he crossed his arms and turned to his boyfriend. His rigid posture faltered when he discovered that Daisuke looked like a wreck. His hair was ruffled and oily, and his complexion was a bit grayish. The skin around his eyes was pinched in and lined. The last time Ken saw Daisuke, he was as hale and healthy as ever, a toned, tanned ball of energy. _But then, I haven't seen him since the tabloid was published…_

"What happened?" he asked, somewhat mollified. His hand landed on Daisuke's chest, and his irritation returned. "This is- Daisuke, why are you wearing my favorite sweater? It will stretch."

"Mmmmmghhh..." Daisuke grimaced and covered his eyes, blocking out either the illumination, Ken's frown, or both. "I jus'... It smells like you."

Ken was a moment away from pointing out that sweaters he liked less also smelled of him, but his mouth snapped shut. Because he wanted to care for it and make it last longer, Ken only washed that sweater when it was stained or when it smelled. He had worn it a few times now since the last cleaning, including yesterday, so it was probably steeped with his body scent. _And that's why Daisuke chose it._ With effort, Ken ignored the way the weave stretched over Daisuke's broader chest. He ran his fingertips down Daisuke's cheek, and the cook smiled and leaned into the contact.

"God, I missh you." The slight lisp caused Ken to smile, though somewhat reluctantly. The shock of waking up to a drunken Daisuke was fading, replaced by the memories of the last few days.

"I'm sorry," Ken whispered. "I didn't really intend to pull back like I did. I just... We're busy, and I was..." Try as he might, he had no language to quickly capture the emotional wreckage of the last forty eight hours. His hand curled around Daisuke's shoulder, desperate for purchase.

His boyfriend's eyes slid open, revealing intense focus. Daisuke lurched into a sitting position and threw his arm around Ken's shoulder, nearly shoving both of them back to the mattress. Ken swayed, but kept them upright. The smell of Kirin beer overwhelmed him.

"We _can't_ be too busy for us anymore," Daisuke said. "Lissen- lissen, I've been talkin' to people, and we need, need t'talk to each other ev'ry day. We can do half an hour. S'not much. We're building our future, but we're also... Fuck, whaddid Mimi-san say? Also buildin'... Buildin'... Each other?"

Ken tried to work out Daisuke's drunk talk, but he was too distracted by curiosity. "Where _were_ you before you came home?"

His boyfriend grunted the name of an izakaya near his ramen-ya. "I saw Senpai, Yamato-san, and Koushiro there. They told me... Told me... I'm supposed t'take the fuckin' high road. Coz you're important."

"Alright." Ken ignored the heat rushing to his face. Apparently, most of the Chosen knew about their problems now. And furthermore, they had sent Daisuke home stuffed with alcohol and advice. _But Koushiro-san and Yamato-san were involved. There has to be something useful planted in Daisuke's head. Right?_

That same head landed heavily against Ken's. "Okay, Daisuke. Let's get you undressed, shall we?" Daisuke's eyes popped open, and he grinned and licked his lips. Ken sighed and rolled his eyes. "Please. You wouldn't be able to stay upright long enough."

Daisuke tugged at his sweater, trying to lift it. Ken hastened to intervene before he stretched it out further. "S'okay," Daisuke said, the words muted through a mouthful of cashmere. "If you get on top-"

" _Daisuke._ " Together, they stripped the chef down to his boxers while Ken ignored his racy suggestions. He carefully folded his sweater, placed it on his nightstand, and slid back under the covers. Daisuke snuggled in beside him.

"So whaddya think?" he asked.

"Of what?"

Daisuke sighed and pinched his eyes shut for a long moment. When they opened, some of the drunken bleariness was gone. "I told you, we hafta spend time together every day. And we need a date day at least twice a month. Even without all of the tabloid shit, we can't keep things going without spending time together."

Ken thought of his work responsibilities and his studies and nearly protested, but the rare seriousness in Daisuke's expression encouraged him to consider his response carefully. He recalled the strain of working, studying, and falling into bed day in and day out, exacerbated by the conspicuous, draining absence of Daisuke and his cheerful presence.

 _What good is a prestigious career and education if I'm lonely and miserable?_ "Alright," he agreed, sliding his hand down the muscles in Daisuke's back. "It's just an internship. I can't drop it, since they pay our rent, but I'm sure I can work with them. And next semester, I'll see if I can take night classes once or twice a week, so we can spend some mornings together."

Daisuke moved towards him so quickly that their heads collided. "Really?!" he squeaked, drowning out Ken's hiss of pain.

"S-sure," Ken replied, rubbing the aching contact spot. Daisuke nuzzled his shoulder, and Ken ignored the ticklish scratch of scruff against his skin. For a while, they were silent and still, wrapped up comfortably together. After a long interval, Daisuke huffed and kissed his cheek.

"I'm sorry. Miyako said people are being shitty to you about this, and it's my fault. I kissed you in public, and now..." The chef's chest rose and fell in a long sigh. "Now they know."

Ken tensed, expecting a wave of irritation that never came. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, stroking Daisuke's cheek and trying to understand the calm falling over him. "It would have gotten out anyway," he said at last. "I hate that my personal life is so public, and... I can't say I don't feel ashamed. Not because of you," he added as Daisuke tensed. " _Never_ because of you. Just... because of how... I'm not like you, Daisuke. I can't shrug it off so easily when people judge me. I feel that weight so heavily."

Daisuke's Adam's apple slid against his skin as he swallowed hard. "Is that... Is that a deal breaker?"

Ken wound an arm around his boyfriend and pulled him in. "Daisuke, I... I'm so sorry I can't handle this the way you can. You're so strong, and I'm always... Always reaching for you, standing in your light because I can't make my own."

Those bright brown eyes popped open as Daisuke struggled to prop himself up with an elbow. "That's not true. Dude, you can do _anything_ , the article was half about how you're too good for me, anyway-"

The collision of Ken's teeth rattled his jaws. "I hate that worst of all. Daisuke, don't you see? Whatever pressures we face, no matter how bad it gets... I need you, and I want you. I've been afraid to face you this whole time, thinking I would blame you or take it out on you, that I'd push you away somehow. But being away from you... It just makes all of this harder."

"Damn right," Daisuke growled. Then his expression mellowed, and he sighed and eased himself back down to the mattress. "Well, not completely right. You're not going to do anything shitty to me, Ken. I mean, yeah, you're a little shit sometimes."

Ken forced a frown. "I said I was sorry for throwing out your old cleats. But they had holes, Daisuke, and I'm fairly certain our neighbors could smell them."

Daisuke grinned, but ignored the interruption. "Shittiness aside, you're a good person." A tanned, calloused fingertip rose to Ken's chest. Daisuke traced the crest of kindness onto his skin, branding him with a mark that Ken always struggled to deserve. There was a long silence as he hesitated over accepting Daisuke's praise.

"You want to make this work," the chef said at last. Ken caught the hand moving against him and lifted it to his lips.

"Yes," he whispered. "And I _need_ it to. So, please... What do you need from me?"

Daisuke kissed his shoulder and sighed with slow pleasure, like he often did when sinking into a hot bath. "Dude, it's a group effort. Like I said, we need to spend time together everyday, and I want two date days a month."

"Hmm." He still felt raw and bleeding, but Ken dug deep for a light, considering tone. "Will you cook dinner for me on these dates?"

A smile of pure happiness filled Daisuke's face, and Ken leaned closer, automatically drawn towards his bright expression. Then that grin morphed into a smirk, and Ken froze.

"Maybe... If you convince me."

Ken fought to maintain a neutral expression. "Mm. Anything else?"

Daisuke grumbled over the change of topic. "Yeah. Listen, the whole radio silence thing you do when you get upset? We _really_ need to talk about this stuff. If you're hurting, let me help you. That's on the boyfriend job description, you know? Don't leave me hanging."

Ken hesitated a moment too long, and Daisuke rolled over until he was on top of him. "I'm serious," he said. "I know it's hard for you, but... Please. I can't help if you won't talk to me. And what if the Dark Ocean fucks with you again, and I don't even know you're hurting? I wouldn't even know where to start looking for you."

Ken glanced away, reluctant to make a promise he could not keep. Daisuke grunted, cupped Ken's face, and directed it towards his. That familiar single-minded intensity stared back at him, strained with worry and earnestness. Ken's arms rose and wrapped around Daisuke's back, holding him closer even as he wished for a way to escape their conversation.

"I want to agree," Ken whispered. "But Daisuke... Sometimes, when I pull back from you, it's because I don't want you to know that, after all of this time, I'm still... Still so susceptible to the feelings and thoughts that made me the Kaiser." He could have added that he lived in fear of someday proving to Daisuke that he didn't deserve the pure, eager love that heightened his best days to sublime and his worst to survivable. But with all of the pressures of the last two days, he couldn't afford to make himself any more vulnerable.

"Ken..." The muscles in Daisuke's back slackened as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Ken's. "I'm not going to let darkness take you again. And even if it does, I promise that I'll be the first person to fight for you, even if it means fighting against you. I've seen you at your worst, and I love you. How long will it take for you to believe that?"

The solid, toned body trembled above him. As usual, when Daisuke was hesitant about words, he shifted to physical communication. He tipped Ken's head to the side, exposing the pale stretch of his neck. His lips and teeth found the most sensitive spots without fail, leaping from one to the next without missing a beat, leaving no room for him to recover in between. Ken gasped and closed his eyes, already surrendering to the shivering sensations tripping across his nervous system. His hands found the bases of Daisuke's shoulder blades and clung, grounding his body while his mind began to blink out. A soft, deep chuckle rumbled up Daisuke's chest, and Ken _tsked_ in response. His boyfriend was going to get what he wanted, and he bloody well knew it.

Daisuke's hands slid over his chest and ribs with slow reverence, taking a torturous route towards his hips. His tongue dipped into a sensitive spot beneath his ear, and then his teeth sank into his earlobe just hard enough to sting. Color exploded across Ken's cheeks as his hips bucked automatically, smashing against Daisuke's. His boyfriend's lips curled into a smirk as he felt the proof of Ken's arousal.

"I want all of you," he whispered as his fingertips slipped beneath the band of Ken's underwear. "Body, mind, good stuff, bad stuff, all of it. If it's a part of you, then I _fucking want it_." A fierce tug slid the boxer briefs down, and Ken kicked them off as Daisuke wiggled out of his.

Then his boyfriend crashed into him, pinning him down with his weight. Ken groaned as the warmth of Daisuke's body spilled into his, fully relaxing muscles that had been stiff for two days. Daisuke cursed, an ardent, scorching sound, and crushed his lips against Ken's. Any semblance of control or dignity evaporated as his tongue swept into his mouth. Ken couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but surrender and ache for more.

Daisuke pulled away long enough to look Ken in the eye and whisper, "Promise me. I just want- _fuck_ \- I want you. Don't want to be shut out. Please."

Ken breathed heavily, too overwhelmed to respond, too captivated to look away. Daisuke's hands cupped his face, as if to protect it, and his eyes were so intense and adoring, openly needing, openly burning. Still, some tiny voice in the back of Ken's mind wanted to deny him, to tell him that he didn't deserve this much trust and love.

 _Deserving or not, he's going to give it to you. That's his choice. You can push it away, or you can work towards earning it._ Ken tried and failed to speak, then tipped his head in a tiny nod. Daisuke blinked, smiled, and nearly crushed him in a hug, using both his arms and legs.

And then, as always, Daisuke gave him everything he had.

 **Hours Later**

Daisuke woke to the sound of power metal with Chibimon curled up on his chest. He fumbled for the phone, shut off the alarm, and mumbled a greeting to his digimon. His eyes slid to the empty side of the bed, and he tried to swallow his disappointment before his partner noticed it. Although the pleasures of last night were still warm in his skin, waking without Ken beside him hurt.

"Hey, Daisuke!" Chibimon cried. Daisuke turned back to him and forced a grin. Even after all these years, he wasn't used to how peppy the digimon was on waking.

Chibimon sat up and stepped forward, until he was right on top of Daisuke's chin. "Before Ken left, Minomon said that we're all going on a picnic together! I'm so excited! We haven't had fun together in a while."

"H-huh?" Daisuke sat up and reflexively caught his partner as he tumbled. A slow smile formed as he realized that Ken had already planned their first date day. "Y-yeah? That sounds awesome. If you want to eat something special, let me know." Chibimon blinked, then began to list food items until they formed an indecipherable blur. Laughing, Daisuke said, "Whoa! We have to be able to carry it, Chibimon!"

He stood, threw on underwear and a pair of sweatpants, and stepped into the kitchen with Chibimon clinging to his shoulder, still talking about food. Deducing that the digimon was hungry, Daisuke stepped up to their tiny fridge. He froze when he saw another article attached to the door with a magnet.

 _Shit. Fuck! Another one?!_ Daisuke grabbed the article and realized that this one was from a local newspaper, rather than a tabloid. The same picture of the two of them kissing covered most of the page, accompanied by a blurb of text reminiscent of the previous article. He read, growing more furious with each word, until his eyes landed on a sticky note stuck to the paper.

"What's wrong, Daisuke?" Chibimon asked. Daisuke ignored him as he prepared himself for Ken's hand-written message. After a few deep breaths, he steeled himself enough to read it:

 _Look, Daisuke. I finally made the front page for something I'm proud of._

Chibimon poked his cheek, knocking him out of his shock. "I'm alright," Daisuke said, patting his partner's head. His hands trembled as he placed the article back on the fridge. He felt Chibimon watching him and waited for the inevitable question, whatever it would be.

"Are… Are you and Ken okay?" he asked at last. Daisuke caught him in a hug and smiled.

"Yeah, Chibimon, so don't worry." Daisuke grabbed Mimi's cookies from a kitchen cabinet and arranged them invitingly on a plate, then covered them with clear cling wrap. A smirk lifted his lips as he decided to leave them unlabeled, denying Ken the warning that they were from Mimi. "We're gonna be just fine."

 **Author's notes:** And there you have it! This story is loosely set in the future of _Growing Up with You_ , just like _A Gentleman's Wager_. I tried not to include Anami Eimi, the OC featured in _GUWY_ with Koushiro, but I wasn't sure what kind of relationship advice Koushiro could give otherwise. Readers of _GUWY_ will definitely recognize the problems that Koushiro's referring to here.

Once again, I'd like to thank **acktacky** for her lovely gift and remind all you Daiken fans that she writes and draws great Daiken stuff, so take a look! Also, if you enjoyed this Daiken story, please consider checking out _A Gentleman's Wager_ , which includes a nice Daiken scene. Thank you so much for reading! As always, feedback is very much appreciated, and is basically a fanfic writer's fuel for writing more. Let me know what you thought :) Have a great day!


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